


Say Anything

by PrinceInky



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Ambiguous/Reader interpreted ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is kind of a background character, Just a lot of fluff and feelings and angst, M/M, Mild Smut, accidental ableist remarks, flash backs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceInky/pseuds/PrinceInky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim hasn't been back on Helios in years, hasn't even seen Jack in person in over 6 months. So when he goes to meet the man in question and instead is reunited with a face he never thought he'd see again, in a way he couldn't have expected, his future suddenly isn't so black and white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Anything

**Author's Note:**

> So this weird AU kind of came to me while I was washing dishes yesterday, and I was hit with an immediate need to just sit down and fucking write it. So I did, and this is kind of the result of all that. Sorry I'm not very good at summaries.

Tim dragged a hand over his face as he sagged against the elevator wall. He had blood caked in his hair and he was sure he smelled even worse than he looked, and if he was being honest, he looked pretty damn bad. Even with every muscle in his body screaming at him to fall flat on his face, and take that nap he so obviously deserved, he was glad to be home. Well, as home as Helios could be to anyone. 

He smirked as he thought about how long it’d been since he set foot here. Nothing looked different, but it felt different. Hell, he was different, different face, different body, different voice. Same principals, just a little more compromised, a few more layers to that guilt that made it hard for him to fall asleep at night. He told himself he didn't have a choice, he was just the weapon in Jack’s hand, but Tim had never had a problem lying to himself before, so why start now.

Finally the doors dinged and he heaved a sigh as he walked up to Jack’s office doors, nodding to the secretary as he went, realizing far too late that they might not realize he’s not exactly Jack. Not that it would matter, he tells himself, Jack asked him to be here, so here he was. It helped to think that every step closer to getting this shit done was another step closer to his bed, which the thought of might or might not have pulled an actual groan from his throat.

The doors slide open as he let the security station scan his hand and walked his ass through the doors. “Look, I know what you’re gon-umhm--”

Now, as much shit as Tim had been through on Jack’s behalf, this next part, he couldn't have seen coming. Lips pressed at his own, a hand at the back of his neck trying to pull him in and drag him under, and while he tried to pull away at first, and he swears he did, if maybe he responded just a little bit to the tongue prying at his lips, just maybe nobody would hold it against him. It was a good kiss, okay probably the best kiss. Working for Jack didn't exactly grant him a lot of down time and this person, who looked from the angle he had, seemed to just be very very pretty, and looked oh so soft. God he wanted to touch and see if that skin was just as soft as those lips, and just as he might have been getting the courage to go for it, they pulled away, a slight smirk on that mouth as a robotic hand wiped away the residual wet from his lips. 

That was about when Tim’s legs gave out and his chest seized like he’d been punched. The weighted, heavy, uncomfortable feeling of hurt, and hope, and despair settling over him all at once. He could feel his eyes start to sting as he looked up at him again, unbelieving. “Rhys?”

* * *

See, the thing about Tim you have to understand is that once, what seems like a long, long, time ago, he was just like every other Hyperion lacky. He started from the bottom just like all the other bottom feeders, an intern. It’s not a pleasant way to spend, at minimum, a year of your life, but a lot of people have it way worse and for way longer. He was lucky enough to find someone, well actually more than one someone, but this one someone was more important than the rest, and his name was Rhys. Now Rhys and him, and a few of their friends, made it through their internship without much more than a scratch or two and a lifetime of pent up aggression, but that’s another story altogether. 

The thing that made Rhys more important than the rest is that he was his, and Tim had never felt so lucky. God it had been so easy. So, so easy to just let it happen and fall into one another after a long day and it was the only not awkward part about him. Yeah, okay, maybe that was a lie, and maybe more then once he can remember how he tried to woo Rhys unsuccessfully before it worked out in his favor. It may have had something to do with his total ineptitude at flirting, and something about not being able to get his intentions across, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it worked eventually and now here he was. Maybe shit elitists in the company helped it work because Rhys was the guy without an arm but a pretty face and he was just kind of a nerd but both being ostracized and underestimated united them in a way neither had really anticipated. 

***

Rhys was adjusting his tie in the mirror and Tim was maybe leaning against the doorjamb ogling his butt in those new slacks, a smile he couldn't quite push down lifting up his cheeks. “That tie is way too long, you don't have to wear it, I’ll get you a new one you know.”

Rhys huffed with a roll of his eyes Tim was just was able to catch in the mirror. “You will not. We're both too broke for that, and besides, I like it. It can be my thing”

Tim raised an eyebrow, “Your _thing?_ And what exactly is your _thing_ ,” he said moving closer to him, “begging the higher ups to dig that tie out of your pants, because,” he said arms going around the lithe form of his boyfriend, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Rhys turned in his arms and pouted, “No one ever believes me when I tell them you’re like this.”

“Like what,” Tim asks pulling Rhys into a kiss.

“This,” he says trying not to smile, “and no, don't start. One of us has to be the responsible one and get to work on time this morning.”

Tim lets Rhys turn back around and add the vest over his dress shirt but Tim somehow manages to work himself closer once more bending to let his lips linger on that pale expanse of neck. “You sure you're interested in being responsible this morning?” A hand snakes down to grab Rhys through his pants surprisingly finding him already half hard. He raises an eyebrow catching Rhys’ eyes in the mirror. 

“Don’t,” he says voice already taking on that softer tone of arousal, “don’t say it.” Teeth shine against the shell of Rhys’ ear and Tim chuckles, “It.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that? Now shut up and kiss me before I change my mind.”

***

When Hyperion announced they were interviewing volunteers for experimental trials for various projects and they jumped on it, their friends had called them crazy. And maybe they were, looking back it certainly seemed that way. He sure as hell wished he could have gone back and changed that one. Rhys obviously got his arm, he was the perfect applicant, and soon after finding out about that, he was also selected, should he accept it, into the Echo-eye program. Tim had encouraged him. They knew what it would mean for him, potentially for them if he was being optimistic. Yeah, Rhys would be out of commission for awhile, but it would put him so far ahead of the game than anyone else. Sure it was risky, but if they could shove everyone in their shadow as they rose through the ranks, all the better. “Success,” he had said, would look good on him. 

***

The bed squeaked and somehow the walls seemed to be thinner on the lower levels of the station, which as fate would have it, was where they lived. So if occasionally they found an empty office they had access too, and the hours were just late enough to ensure that they wouldn't get caught, well…

“Nghh, Rhys, fuck,” his breath came in harsh rushed intervals fogging up the window overlooking the Hall of Heroism. His head was cushioned against one of his arms and Rhys was squeezing at his hip harshly so he didn't lose balance.

“Feel good babe? Because you look a right mess about now,” Rhys asked, not that he sounded much better than Tim to be fair, but that was hardly the point. Tim nodded weakly, words failing him as all he could focus on was the pleasure coursing through him, the feel of Rhys’ fingers digging in his skin, the slide of his cock and that burning friction inside him. He was still reeling from the blowjob that started this whole escapade, and now here they were, _again_. Not that he was complaining, definitely not complaining. “Fff-uvk yessss, sso close.”

“Good, because, god Tim you feel... sh’do this more often, we should, ~fuck, definitely be doing this more often.” He adjusts Tim’s stance a bit spreading his legs further apart with one of his, and on the next thrust they both cried out. Tim from Rhys hitting his prostate and Rhys from Tim clenching down so hard on him. “Jesus babe, I think you’re trying to kill me.”

A whine leaves his throat and he knows he can't hold on much longer. He needs to come and he just needs more, more of Rhys, more of something to just push him that last inch over the edge and he can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Everything is too much and not enough, and he feels like he’s breaking apart at the seams. “More, something, anything, _pleease,_ ” and he knows he sounds wrecked and his words are all garbled together, but he hopes and begs it all comes to an end soon. 

Then it happens, hitting him faster than he could have anticipated. Rhys’ hand grabs at his shoulder pulling him, forcing an arch in his back and then he can feel those teeth at his neck and suddenly, everything breaks apart, and for a second he’s suspended over the edge before actually falling over into to sweet bliss and he thinks that might be what hell is like because one second of that felt like an hours’ torture. But it’s worth it, so worth it, and he’s coming untouched, face squishing into the window as Rhys’ name leaves his lips like it’s the only thing that matters in the world and in that moment it just might be. 

Before he’s coherent enough to realize what’s going on Rhys is pulling him to the ground and into his lap, soft hands tracing over his stomach following stray patterns of the freckles he finds there. Tim sighs and leans back into those now familiar arms relaxing into the touch, breath falling into sync. 

“Say it,” Rhys says, soft and gentle against his flesh, “tell me you love me.”

Something that feels like anxiety but better settles into his chest. It’s like he’s choking but instead of dread it’s like a light, a weight that’s comfortable and supposed to be there, and he thinks maybe this was what it felt like to have something shift into place, like it was supposed to. He’d never had that and he just didn't want to be wrong, and he doesn't want to look up but he _has_ to and when he sees Rhys’ eyes he just knows. “You love me.”

And then they’re kissing and a hand is in his hair and they both know exactly what this is. “Yeah,” Rhys manages to say after a time when a sleepy weight has settled over them, “I do.”

***

It was about two months later when Tim was accepted into a different experimental program labeled classified. They offered to wipe every debt he ever had away and then some as well as promise that if he was unhappy with his appearance now that wouldn't be the case after they were done. Rhys tried to tell him that that shit didn't matter, but Tim knew it would eventually. He had gotten lucky with Rhys, but once Rhys knew what he was missing, that would be it. His luck had an expiration date.The higher Rhys rose up the ranks the closer that day would come. Who was he kidding, some scrawny ginger with too many freckles and a perpetual squeaky voice? Rhys didn't have the Echo-eye installed yet, but it was only a matter of time. If he wanted any hope of this, whatever this was between them working out he had to take it, or at least that’s what he had thought. Tim didn't like to think about the argument they had the night before he never saw him again. 

***

“Why are you doing this? Please tell me this isn’t some petty self-indulgence that you're willing to risk your life for. For what? Money? Pride?”

They we’re standing across the room from one another, they’d been at it off and on for hours. Just when he'd think it was over it’d start back up again. He sighed. “No, yes? I don't know what you want me to say Rhys.”

“Fucking hell Tim, how about the truth? Why do you want this? You’ll be gone for 5 months minimum, I won't be able to see you, and if this is about money there are other ways, babe. We can find something else. Hyperion is a lot of things but trustworthy isn't one of them. We don't even know what they’ll do to you.”

“Well I kind of assumed that’s what classified meant.” He cringed at his own words, that wasn't cool. No, no no, he hadn't meant to say that. Fuck him and his thoughts. 

“Are you kidding me right now? This isn’t a game Tim, just let me see the folder.”

Said folder was clutched in his hand, had been all day. He had refused to tell Rhys what it said exactly, hadn't wanted to worry him. But they both knew there was something else, he was hiding something. “I told you. I don't want to worry you over nothing. It’s just medical jargon that’s gonna get you in even more of a twist then you are now. Just drop it.”

It was the crack in Rhys’ voice that made him look up from the floor, “This isn't like you. What aren’t you telling me? Is this your way of saying you want to end it? You, that,” he said pointing to the folder,” this whole thing is scaring me. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Tim sighs again feeling helpless and scared he’s pushing the only good thing he’s ever had in his life away. He’s stuck in the middle of the road and he knows no matter which way he goes he’s going to lose. Why couldn't anything ever be easy? The folder lands on the floor with a flop and he walks to the door, “I’ll be back,” he says, “I need a coffee.” He pauses for a moment at the door though, he wants to tell him that he’s doing it for them, for himself, but mostly because Rhys deserves it, maybe they both did. “Do you want anything while I’m out,” is what he says instead, and at the shake of Rhys’ head he leaves.

 

He comes home two hours later to Rhys curled up on the couch with the comforter from their bed and a tub of ice cream on the coffee table. The folder is nowhere to be seen, but he’s not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one. “Am I allowed to join you or should I just go?” The pile of blankets shifts and slowly a bleary eyed Rhys folds himself out of the blankets and stands up making his way to Tim instead. 

Tim can’t say he was expecting the kiss, but he’s infinitely grateful for it and relaxes into it like he’s been holding his breath the last few hours and this, this is what feels right. Their hands are tight around one another like the fear curled in their stomachs is a living breathing thing in the room with them and if they let go they’ll be consumed. The kiss, it's passionate but not leading, a necessary thing, because words weren’t always enough, and with the two of them this was reassurance.

When they finally break apart, it’s back to business, he can see it in Rhys’ eyes that they have a lot to say and it was going to be a late night. He didn't have work the next day and Rhys was still doing physical therapy for his arm. “So?” he asks breaking the silence.

Rhys looks down like he’s struggling with something very intensely before looking back up with him with those two lovely brown eyes. “I think you're dumb, and stupid, and this is a very bad, terrible idea. I’m royally pissed at you for not telling me. I can't tell you how many times I debated not being here when you got back because who the fuck volunteers to get their appearance changed for Hyperion under experimental testing without, I don’t know, telling their boyfriend!”

“To be fair, the thing says it’s going to be a guaranteed improvement.”

Rhys paces away from him, “Don't joke about this. I like the way you look. I like your stupid oversized glasses, and those dots across your skin I trace with my fingers all the time, and the way your voice goes soft and breathy when we fuck. I love _you_ , Timothy. I don't want you to be anyone else, no matter how big the payout is. It’s not worth it.”

Tim feels his face flush, pale cheeks no doubt making it obvious what Rhys’ words did to him. Yet he doesn’t say anything about what he’s thinking and everything is swirling inside his head, and then Rhys is in his face, brows drawn down tight on his face. “What did you just say?”

“I-I, didn't think I said anything.”

The scowl on Rhys’ face didn't improve and he could almost hear his teeth clenching. “It’s not like I'll think that for long anyways? Really Tim? I can't believe,” he started before turning around hand on his forehead pushing back his hair that had fallen in his face. “How can you even feel that way? Is it me? Is there something I’m doing wrong? I--”

“No. No, no, babe, no,” he interrupts, “it’s nothing like that it’s just... God, I’m just an idiot, okay? I-I want to not be me, anyone but me. I want to be not just what you love now, but everything you’ll want when you finally realize you can have better.”

“Fuck you.”

Well that certainly got Tim’s attention. Rhys shook his head at him, a mix of disappointment and anger Tim was guessing. “No seriously, fuck you. You don't get to decide what’s best for me. I’m not a child who doesn’t know any better, and in case it hadn’t crossed your clearly delusional brain, am capable of making my own decisions deciding who I want to be with, who I want to spend my time with, and who I want to fuck.”

“Dammit Rhys! Things change, people change. I want to be ready and just,” he gestured to himself, “be more for you when that happens. People are going to throw themselves at you and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the best looking guy on Helios. I can't handle losing you to someone else when I can do something about it. I won’t sit here and watch you fall all over some other Hyperion scum bag, when it could have been me. I want it to always be me, not just now. Not just while you still think the way you do.”

Rhys was pacing hands clenching back and forth and he could tell the arm was starting to bother him as he kept leaning into the weight of it wincing when he tried to readjust his stance. “Okay I’m going to pretend you didn't just both imply that I was only good enough for you when I only had one arm, and that you didn't just basically throw all the meaning out of what we have by suggesting that you don't trust me. I know you’re insecure about your looks, but at least you’re fucking whole, I would never,” Rhys stops talking clearly struggling on keeping his voice level. Tim had seen him try to keep his cool enough times to know the difference. To know when he was about to crumble, and then he saw the man in front of him falter and heard his voice crack, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. “You can go fuck yourself Timothy.”

“Rhys I--”

“No, Tim. Don't. That’s exactly what you just said and you can't take that back. I never thought you looked at me like that, you out of anyone. I, you should go. Just go, take your fucking folder and go do whatever the fuck you want because obviously it won't matter anyways. Just look at me, look at me and tell me how I feel doesn't matter. Look at me and say it doesn’t matter, that we don't matter.”

Tim cracked, he felt the anger swell up and eat him alive, and suddenly everything he was thinking was tumbling out of his mouth. “You can improve yourself unnecessarily and I support you. I tell you to go for whatever you want, that you don't need an arm, that you don't need the Echo-eye, that I believe you can do it on your own, but if it’s what you want then of course, of course I’ll be there for you. Of course I’ll love you and support you, as long as you're sure it’s what you want. And when the tables are turned and it’s my turn, and I want to better myself and get out of debt to boot, suddenly I’m the unreasonable one. So no,” he said grabbing the folder from where he can see it peeking out from the blanket on the couch and turning towards the door for the second time that night. “It doesn't matter.”

* * *

“Jack? Earth to Jack?” 

Hands were on Tim’s shoulders suddenly and he’s jolted out of everything and he’s looking at Rhys as if it’s the first time he’s seen him, and yet the thousandth and he can see both concern and fear in those eyes. And my god those brown and blue eyes, why hadn’t he seen them sooner? Why had they been so fucking stupid? It’s a dream, a nightmare, it has to be, because no way this is real, no way this is happening. 

“Rhys?” he can hear himself asking in a too shaky voice to sound anything like Jack should, but he doesn't care because he has to know. He has to hear him say it’s him, that he’s not going crazy. 

“Uhh, yeah? Been Rhys all day. What kind of shit are you on?” he asks leaning forward hands moving on his face and Tim thinks that his hand is still so soft and that articulation in the other, jesus it’s cold. New, and cold, and perfect on his skin like he never thought it could be. Thumbs are pushing up against his eyelids, head tilting in concern and amusement, a smirk slanted on his face as he considers him, “And why are you covered in blood?”

“You’re real,” he whispers, and he is. His hands are moving forward and his fingers touch Rhys’ face and he’s hit with just how much he missed this. Rhys is leaning into his touch and god he’s missed him, and everything is sort of on fire, and it’s a tight pain but he’ll gladly suffer because he’s never quite imagined this, never thought. “I-I ,mean how? When? I, I’m--”

His verbal train of thought is cut off by the sound of the door opening and then the other him comes in. Jack is striding over to them in the way Tim was never able to perfect, and his glance lands on them and that smile, that smile says everything he needs to know as it lands on the both of them. He remembers Rhys had kissed him, had kissed him but really was kissing Jack, and now he’s sick and feels like like he shouldn't be here, wants anything not to be here, because everything is just wrong. He has no right to feel this way, no right, and yet his hand is clutching his stomach and breathing isn't quite as easy as he remembered it being. 

“Well it looks like I just missed something deliciously interesting,” Jack says too pleasantly. “Please tell me this got at least a little PG13 in here, because that would be priceless.”

Rhys is looking back and forth, mouth hanging open and you can practically hear the cogs turning grinding into themselves as no plausible answer is coming forward. Jack laughs and Tim looks up at him properly for the first time in half a year or more and feels disoriented all over again. It’s not like he can forget who he’s supposed to be acting like but it always unnerves him a little being in his presence. 

“Don't hurt yourself kids, Jack has all the answers your little brains are grasping for. Rhys meet Me, well the other me, fake me.” Jack turns his attention towards him once more, “Me meet Rhys, best PA in the galaxy, but I kind of have to say that because he’s _my_ PA so the title kind of comes with the position.”

Tim can hear Rhys scoff at the introduction and can't help the smile that comes to his lips. “Jack why does he look like you? Why do you even need a someone to look like you? Last I knew you didn't have a twin brother so, please enlighten me, the man who schedules your whole damn life, why I didn't know about him.”

“Chill, Cupcake, this little, well I mean not so little because he was completely modeled after the real deal,” he says with a wink, “if you know what I mean. But he’s my body double. Can't be everywhere at once and this is one of my, well actually the longest living double I have. Kind of impressive really.”

Rhys’ attention drop back down to Tim, who’d still sprawled out on the floor. “Well I mean I guess that’s why he was kissing so much better than I’m used to. Huh. Weird.”

Tim tried hard not to preen at the compliment as well as add exactly how he knows Rhys likes to kiss. Not that he’d known it was Rhys at the time, but you never really lose a technique you’ve managed to master. 

“Oh come on kitten, this guy? Really?”

Rhys just shrugs not bothering to answer with words and the both of them seeming to eat up Jack’s affronted reaction. Tim shrugs in answer when Jack looks to him before finally bothering to get to his feet and act like this wasn’t the most awkward situation he could ever be in. 

“Alright show me then.”

Two sets of eyes swung their way back to the CEO. Tim actually managed to let out a little chuckle and Rhys just looked, well he looked like this wasn't the first time Jack had requested something like this. “You’re not serious,” he looked to Rhys. “He’s not serious is he?”

“You bet your ass I’m serious,” Jack answers for Rhys. “Won’t take a jab to my technique lying down. I gotta judge for myself. I know what this little shit-stain looks like when he’s having a good time, so let's see what you got handsome.”

Rhys shrugs and wipes his mouth with his flesh hand as if it’s the proper etiquette for such a request and Tim is leaning away. No, he doesn’t want to do this. He can’t, this isn't what he signed up for and this isn't even a stranger, this is torture, he can’t. It’s asking too much, but apparently that doesn't matter as then he feels a yank and a hand is in his hair and Jack’s face is all to close to his. “Now don't be a pansy about this, kiss him like you mean it.” All Tim can do is nod.

Rhys is the one that closes the gap first and it’s nice, not great, but nice. Then Tim hears a sigh coming from his right, clearly unamused and Tim figures if he has to be forced into this situation he may as well enjoy it. He lets his two hands come up and cup Rhys’ face tilting it just a bit to the side so he can lick into his mouth just the way he remembered loving it. Just the feeling of having Rhys in his hands again has him letting out a soft whimper into his mouth and that’s when the change really happens. Rhys is suddenly giving it his all, the small whine lighting something into the kiss that hadn't been there before and the PA is dragging Tim’s hips closer to his own and by the time it's all said and done they’re both hard and breathing like they just ran a marathon, and Jack is looking at both of them a little too intensely for his liking. 

“What the hell was that kitten?” Tim hears Jack’s voice say, and is a bit more than curious at the honest curiosity he hears there.

Rhys ignores him though and Tim can feel those eyes on him once more. “You knew my name? You knew who I was before Jack even got here? Who,” he shakes his head, “what are you?”

Jack is leaning against his desk arms crossed and taking in the events with a keen eye, he didn't even know if he could answer as much as he wanted to. “I-I’m Jack,” he said lamely.

Rhys gives Jack, the real one, another suffering look and the CEO rolls his eyes. “As much as I appreciate the loyalty, I am oh, so curious where a nerd like you learns to kiss like that. So please oblige him, and me, mostly me.”

Tim reaches a hand behind his head and scratches an invisible itch. _Fuuuuck._ This, he didn't want to do this, but he did, he really did. He didn't know what would happen, if anything would happen. But hope was a funny thing, he could feel it growing, and sliding through his veins hot and cold all at once. “I-um,” he clears his throat because his voice is scratchy and the modulator didn't like to work at the best of times, let alone when he was emotionally compromised. “Tim, Timothy, it’s Timothy Rhys.”

Time stops. All eyes are on Rhys and Tim suddenly can't remember how to breathe and then there’s an emotion behind those eyes. A knowledge, a cog wheel turning with the recognition, and he’s shaking his head and Tim can see how his fists are clenched and then those eyes are closing and he can see a tear make its way down his face and he has an urge to hold him, touch him, kiss him, but he can’t move and can only watch and everyone's just standing there waiting for it to happen, whatever _it_ was. 

Tim can feel himself shaking, his heart thrumming so hard he can feel it wherever he focus’ his attention. “Say something dammit, anything.” And it’s pleading and needy and desperate, and he’s not sure it should feel like this, he’s not sure about anything and he’s terrified. He’s so terrified just like he was back then, scared to lose him all over again, to fuck it up before it even starts. 

Movement. Rhys is moving again, hands coming up to wipe his eyes, soft sad smile on his lips and he grabs Tim’s hand in his and just looks at him like he's the only thing in the world and says, “Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways... so there was that. I'm not entirely happy with how it came out. I don't hate it but idk. Maybe it's just because I've not read a whole lot of this pairing before. *shrugs into the void* Either way I hope you liked it. Writing the flash back scenes were my favorite part, so let me know what you think. Feel free to come and say hi on my [Tumblr](http://www.princeinky.tumblr.com). And as always comments/kudos are appreciated.


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